Giving Up
by burnthehousedown
Summary: Begins during 'Last Resort' in season 5. House and Thirteen have a confrontation and betray more of their feelings than they might want to. Goes off-canon in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **I'm calling this a 'side-story', because it's technically possible for it to have happened without changing anything in the actual show. I sensed so much tension (sexual?) between House and Thirteen in this episode ('Last Resort'), so I thought I'd try to explore that. Let me know where you think I could go with this, I'd like to write some additional chapters if you think the idea has potential.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'House' or any of the characters on the show (if I did, Thirteen wouldn't have left *sad face*).

"She takes everything that I take. I don't want anything that cross-reacts."

When he turned around, she was already injecting herself. As she pulled the strip of white elastic from her arm, she began to gasp for breath and fell towards the floor. His stomach lurched, but he knew he couldn't show any signs of excessive concern for her; it would only put them in greater danger.

Thankfully, she avoided obtaining any more injuries by using the table to lower herself onto the carpet. He rushed to her side as calmly as he could and placed his fingers on her neck to feel her pulse. He tried not to register how her skin seemed like silk and the thought that it could lose all its warmth far too soon with everything that was going on around them.

"The martyr's heart is beating dangerously slow," he said to the patient – lunatic – whatever you wanted to call him. "She needs water, now, before her condition gets any worse."

The patient started to panic. "No one's leaving here to get water."

"The bathroom," House retorted, starting to lose his patience, "only has one entry, through this room, and I don't think it'll be too easy for the cripple and the sick girl to climb out the window. If you're that concerned, though, you can have your gun ready to shoot us as soon as you hear our feet on the lid of the toilet."

"You're not shutting the door," the patient informed him as he threw Thirteen's arm around his neck, attempting to lift her up.

"No problem," he grunted as he struggled to keep his balance under her weight. "I'll just close it half-way so you don't have to see her vomiting from the lack of oxygen to her brain." The nurse shot him a look, no doubt confused about his actions and worried he was going to get them all killed. He ignored her and kept limping toward the bathroom, Thirteen stumbling along beside him. The young boy with curly hair shifted the table enough so that the door could be opened and then stepped aside to let them pass.

When they made it through the door, he dropped her as gently as he could onto the tiles and let her rest her head against the wall. He tried to get her to look at him, but her eyes were glassy and refused to focus.

"Thirteen," he kept his voice as soft as possible. "Thirteen, I need you to stay conscious. Keep taking deep breaths and move your arms and legs if you feel yourself slipping away." He stood up and walked back into the office.

"She's lost consciousness, thanks to you," he directed at the patient, "so we're going to be a while." When the crazed man began to protest, House continued: "Unless you'd like us to bring another doctor in – or one of the armed guards. If we ask for extra help, it could be either-or." He took the patient's hostile silence as an agreement and headed back into the bathroom.

Turning on the taps to conceal their voices, he kneeled down in front of his employee and, ignoring the sharp pain in his right leg, lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. Her eyes were closed and it occurred to him that she might have stopped breathing. He moved his hand in front of her face to see whether he could feel any air come out and held his own breath in fear. As he turned his head to see what was happening in the office through the crack in the door, he felt Thirteen's hands take his own and press it to her lips. A wave of relief washed over him and he turned back to her, making himself more comfortable on the cold, hard floor.

"You have some serious explaining to do." He pulled his hand away and tried to instil a menacing tone in his voice, to no avail.

"Is now really the most appropriate time," she replied weakly, "with a gun-wielding psycho in the next room?"

"I'm not letting you back into that situation until your heart rate's returned to normal."

"House, he hasn't gone away just because you've taken me into the bathroom," she paused for a minute to catch her breath. "He's still there, with the gun, and so are all those other people who won't be safe until you solve this case."

"I can't do anything more with this case until I know that you're stable."

"My condition has nothing to do with it," she whispered, intending to sound livid but only managing to make her vulnerability more obvious.

"It has everything to do with it," House whispered back to her, and looking into her dark-rimmed eyes, all he wanted to do was protect her and enable her to live, but he was stuck, terrified that any action he took would make that impossible. He goes back in to diagnose the patient and Thirteen gets force-fed medication that will destroy her; he stays here with her and they both get killed by aforementioned patient. Crazy with anxiety and indecision, he leant forward, slowly closing the gap between him and Thirteen. His lips brushed against hers and she sighed, parting her lips to allow him to deepen the kiss.

After a moment, he pulled back in order to gauge how she was recovering from the drugs and instantly regretted it. The feel of her tongue tangled up with his own had been amazing beyond words and the sudden absence of that sensation made him realise that he would probably never experience it again. He had to admit to himself that he did the right thing, though, as he observed her laboured breathing and the pain shining through her eyes. Little did he know that the greater part of these symptoms were due to the exact same thoughts and feelings that were assailing him.

"Why did you stop?" she asked him weakly, afraid of being heard and of working herself up.

"I'm trying to make a point," he told her. "You're throwing your body around like you couldn't give a crap if you died before tomorrow gets here – "

"Tomorrow never gets here," she replied with cynicism, "and it's hard to care that you're dead once you've already died."

"Exactly." She shot him a look that she didn't have the energy to give. "You deserve to keep experiencing life for as long as you can. The people around you deserve to have you in their lives for as long as they can." The shock in her eyes when she heard him speak these words made his stomach flip and his mind start shouting recriminations at him. _What the hell are you trying to achieve here? _He had no idea.

"And do you count yourself as one of those people?" she asked him, her voice still soft but filled with bewilderment. This compassion had come out of nowhere and she was scared about where it might lead. She was scared about lots of things.

"I would consider myself responsible if I stood idly by while you sacrificed yourself for no good reason."

"Saving all those people out there isn't a good reason?"

"Not when there are other options. Not when it's simply to eradicate your own fears."

"I'm not scared," she lied.

"Good, because we're going back into Cuddy's office now to cure a maniac and you're going to come out of it alive, whether you like it or not."

"Is that an order?" He couldn't tell whether her lips were spreading in a smile or a grimace. He didn't want to know.

"Yes, sir. Now, let's splash some water on your face so they don't get suspicious." He managed to haul himself up to a standing position by holding onto the towel rack and limped over to the sink, collecting some water in his hands. Thirteen's expression when he actually did throw it into her face made him glad that he had chosen to fight her. He wouldn't let her give up.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Okay, this chapter takes the story way off canon, but hopefully none of you will mind…I need to fulfil my House/Thirteen fantasies ;)

Thirteen managed to peel her eyes open after she awoke to the sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily. _Oh, crap_ she thought. _What have I gotten myself into now?_ The first thing she registered was unrelenting brightness, but once her eyes adjusted to the light she could make out the familiar shapes of a hospital room, including the bed that she was lying in. No one else was around and suddenly she felt very lonely, a mood so uncharacteristic for her that she began to wonder what they had put in her IV drip.

Things were getting out of hand. She had come _so close _to losing her life, simply because she had refused to fight for it. No, she had done worse than that; she had laid it out for someone – anyone – to take it from her. But what was there to take? These thoughts kept circling around her head, contradicting each other until she couldn't stand it anymore. This was why she had done what she had done: she was in too much pain to continue living, but she wasn't brave enough to end her life on her own.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of the glass door sliding open. When she looked up, House was limping into the room, Game Boy in hand. When he saw her gazing back at him, he stopped in his tracks, just inside the door. "I thought you would be asleep," he offered as justification – for what, Thirteen had no idea.

"Sorry to disappoint," she shot back at him, averting her gaze and running her hands along the edge of the sheet that she had now pulled down to her waist.

There was an awkward silence as House took a seat in the chair by the glass wall. Thirteen was still lying on her side facing him, but she refused to meet the blue eyes that were staring at her intently.

"What happened today," he finally uttered, "was not good."

This compelled Thirteen to finally look at him. "You don't think I know that?" She was met with only silence. "You don't think I wish that I hadn't gotten myself into this position? That I hadn't felt that there was no other choice?"

"You need to learn that there _are _other choices."

"Oh, and who's going to teach me? _You_? The drug addict who won't let himself get close enough to anyone to ever experience loss?"

"I try to protect myself. You, on the other hand, throw yourself on top of landmines, claiming that you're saving the rest of the world."

"Don't kid yourself, House," she said, her voice beginning to get hoarse. "You do the same thing that I do: allow your life slip away so that you don't have to acknowledge that it's being taken from you." With these last words, she finally lifted her eyes to her boss's face, but now it was his turn to look away. He ran his hand up and down his cane and kept his gaze trained on the tiles by the feet of his chair.

"Our lives may be being taken from us, but that's true for everyone. Each day that passes means that we have one less day to live, but there are still days left, at least for us. Do you really want to give them up, just like that?"

This stumped her. She wasn't used to House saying anything optimistic and it instilled her with a sort of unease, like the world wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life alone?" she challenged him, trying to grab hold of something familiar, something she would know how to deal with.

"No," he answered bluntly, causing a jolt in Thirteen's stomach when their eyes met and locked in a fierce gaze.

"Then…" she tried to search for the words. "Then…why do you push people away? Why do you exert so much effort to make yourself unlikeable to everyone around you?"

House considered the truth for a moment, deciding whether he should speak it. "It's just like you said," he finally managed. "I'm so scared of pain – of loss – that I'm willing to give up what I want the most in order to avoid it."

Thirteen just stared at him. She couldn't believe what he had just admitted to her and she wanted to see how far she could push him – how much she could get him to open up, even if she wasn't willing to expose anything of her own being. "It seems pretty stupid," she probed, "to let a little bit of fear get in the way of your happiness."

"We're not talking about 'a little bit', _Thirteen_," House snarled at her. "It's rational to accept a small blight in order to escape a much larger one."

"Well, we're not talking about a 'small blight' either. Is that really how little you value your existence?"

"I'm still existing."

"Not very well." This final jab had House out of his chair and for a moment, Thirteen was actually frightened about what he might do. Well, frightened _and _pleased that she had gotten such a reaction out of him. She knew it took a lot to shake the man who was now standing beside her bed.

"I've been through a lot," House said as he took a step closer to the young doctor. "More than you know."

"Really?" Thirteen had intended to sound cynical, but the fact that all the air had suddenly left her lungs before she spoke made that impossible.

"I tried to kill myself," House blurted, not wanting to give himself a chance to turn back. "It was right after the ordeal with my leg, after I woke up and realised what they had done. I thought I had lost everything. Then, after it happened, Stacey took off, and I knew that I had."

Thirteen bored into his eyes with her own, struggling to decipher whether this was some cruel joke or he was actually being honest with her. Eventually, she opened her mouth, looked away and then turned back to him before she spoke. "Why didn't you try again?" Her voice was hoarse with everything she didn't say.

"I convinced myself – with a lot of help – that I hadn't lost everything. I'd just lost my reason to live: all I had to do was find another one and I'd get through whatever I was going through. So, I set my mind on solving puzzles; that was my new purpose, and I was happy with that. At least I thought I was."

"Don't tell me I've put suicidal thoughts back in your head," Thirteen embraced her sarcasm, too scared of what would happen if she took this situation seriously.

"No, you haven't," he replied, trying to quell his frustration. He had to get this out, somehow, no matter what her reaction was going to be. "You've made me realise two things. First, that there is always a reason to live, no matter how well it's hiding or how obscure it is. Second, that my new reason to live was not good enough, not by a long shot."

"So…you're going to start looking again now? I've given you the motivation to embark on your search anew?" The drugs were hindering her mental processes and she was finding it hard to see where this was going.

"I've already found what I'm looking for." House clasped his sinewy hand around the delicate one that had been fiddling with the sheet since he had walked into the room. Thirteen looked up at him in surprise and her mouth fell open, but no words came out. "You can't die because _you're _my reason to live. It was always you – I just didn't realise it until I thought that I might loose you as well. That thought made me feel worse than Stacy leaving, than my leg has for the past ten years."

"I…I – " Thirteen didn't have to strive to articulate how she felt for any longer, because House had bent down ignoring the pain in his leg, and touched his lips to hers. When she felt his hand brush against her cheek, she lifted her arm to wrap her hand around his neck and pull him closer to her. The sound of the glass door sliding open made House step back gingerly, avoiding the amused gaze of the doctor who had come to check on Thirteen. The smile on the patient's face caused a wave of relief to wash over House, knowing that this could work, if they were both willing to try.

**AN: **I'm thinking some smut is called for in the next chapter…thoughts? Oh and let me know if you think the ending is too corny – I have a bad habit of conjuring happy endings that probably shouldn't occur :P


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Thank you so much to all the people who have added this story to their alerts and favourites list! It really means a lot to me, and it's been great motivation to write this (slightly overdue) chapter. I hope you like it :) Oh and I've had to change the rating of the story because of the content of this chapter, so don't keep reading if you're not up for any explicit content.

They walked up to Thirteen's apartment, House carrying her bag so that she could open the door with the key she had pulled out from her pocket. As she swung the door open, Thirteen turned around to look at her boss – was that what he was? – and tried to squash her self-consciousness. "Well, this is it," she offered, stepping to the side to let him pass her. He limped inside, placing her bag on the floor next to the couch. Thirteen's breath caught slightly in her chest as he began to look around, moving towards her bookshelf to inspect the titles. When he turned back to her again, his mouth was stretched in a slight smile.

"It's nice," he told her. "Not that many things, but who needs clutter?"

"Yeah," she conceded, walking into the kitchen to escape the intensity of House's gaze. To her disappointment, he followed right behind her.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her.

"No, not really," she replied, still making a conscious effort not to lock eyes with him.

"You know," he went on, his voice adopting a more mocking tone, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to avoid me."

"I just got out of hospital," she reasoned with him. "I haven't had any privacy for almost a week, so I was just hoping to be able to rest when I got home."

"Alone," House clarified, his eyes boring into the woman in front of him.

"Yes." She finally looked up at him – he was tall, even leaning on his cane. She hoped that this confirmation would be enough to get him to leave, because every second he stayed made her feel less stable, like she was slowly loosing her footing on an uneven surface.

"Remy – "

"Thirteen," she corrected him, and he shot her an exasperated look. They were moving backwards.

"You're right." A relieved smile spread across her face, but it only lasted for a moment. "You just got out of hospital – you need someone here with you."

"You can't tell me what I need." Thirteen's voice was husky with everything she was keeping contained inside her and she was willing House to leave before she said something that she would regret.

"Well, I need to take care of you," House said, irritation creeping into his voice. Thirteen could see how hard it was for him to admit that and it made her heart ache momentarily until she chased the pain from her mind.

"You can't stay here," she said more forcefully, then turned her back to him. She walked out of the kitchen and back to the living room, hoping that he would follow her again this time so that she could shoo him out the door while she was still able to. She was beginning to feel light-headed – because she was used to having an IV drip, she reasoned – and she needed to lie down.

"Why not?" House stepped in front of her before she could reach the couch. "If you can give me a good reason that I shouldn't be here with you, then I'll leave, no argument." She hated it when he was rational like this; it made it so difficult to prove him wrong.

"Well, for one, I need to get out of these clothes and have a shower. I don't think it's really appropriate for you to be here for that."

"Why not?" House continued to press her. When his hands grasped hold of her hips, she inhaled sharply and then cursed herself for how little control she had over her body. The Huntington's made it bad enough – she didn't want to have to deal with any more involuntary actions.

"You're my boss," Thirteen said, just loud enough for House to hear her.

"Is that all I am to you?"

"Yes," she lied.

House took a step back, his frustration getting the better of him. "Then why did you let me kiss you?"

"We kissed twice! Are you telling me that you expect to form relationship with everyone you do that with?"

"I thought we already had a relationship," House countered, leaning on the couch and turning to impale the young doctor with the blue daggers he concealed as eyes.

"A professional one, not a personal one." Thirteen began to wonder if she would ever recover from the injuries she was sustaining now. If no one could see them, then how could they be treated?

"Are you telling _me_ that you have no interest in forming any personal relationships? Or – do you just not want to form one with me?"

"I – I – " That was it; she had run out of words. _Oh God, please let him leave now_. Apparently God wasn't listening, because the older man took two long strides and was touching her once more, his hands on her shoulders this time.

"I know you're afraid," he began, "but I am too, and I believe that together, our fear might not be so powerful – that we might have a chance to overcome it and actually live our lives."

"But I _can't _live my life, House. If I give myself a reason to be thankful, to be glad that I'm alive, then I'm not going to be able to bear losing it all when it's taken away from me. I'm not willing to expose myself to that kind of pain."

She raised her eyes to meet his, waiting for him to react. She was expecting him to step back again or continue his rhetoric in an attempt to change her mind, but instead, his hands moved to cup her face and pull her into a kiss, sending a jolt down her spine when their lips met.

House's mouth slowly enveloped Thirteen's and he ran his tongue along her lips, asking permission to explore her mouth. Her hands clasped around his neck as he slid his own hands down to her hips, slowly playing with the hem of her shirt and brushing his fingers against her taught stomach. The kiss deepened and Thirteen drew them around to the front of the couch so that she could collapse onto it and pull House down with her. As she did so, House broke their kiss and looked down at the dying girl who was so obviously fighting every one of her desires. "Is this how you tell all of your guests that it's time for them to go?" he teased her. She grinned back at him and reached up to unbutton his shirt.

"Maybe I think you deserve more time to convince me that you should stay."

House subtly adjusted his position so that he wasn't leaning on his bad leg while he leant forward to bite gently on Thirteen's earlobe. She exuded a soft moan that had House already hard. He moved his mouth to the bottom of her throat and began trailing kisses down her body as he undid her top. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he unbuttoned them and slid his hand inside, eliciting a gasp from the exquisite woman beneath him. He began stroking her through her panties. "See?" He said, slightly breathless. "This isn't painful at all."

"Stop talking," Thirteen panted, pulling House further on top of her and starting to work on getting his jeans off. He lifted his hips up to help her and then continued his ministrations, moving his hand inside her panties and returning his mouth to her neck. He lost his focus, though, when Thirteen had unclothed him enough to clasp her slender hands around his cock. He gasped at her touch and as soon as he regained his ability to process thoughts, he removed her jeans as well, ignoring the charming smirk on her face.

Thirteen held her breath as House slid inside her. Her cheeks turned an even deeper red than they already were when he whispered into her ear, "No one's ever felt so good around me." He hesitated for a moment and when she glanced up at him with concern, he merely uttered, "My leg." With a natural grace, she held onto his hips and manoeuvred them so that she was straddling him on the couch.

"Better?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth.

"Yes." House said with satisfaction, easing her head towards his with one of his hands and capturing her lips in another kiss. Thirteen began to fuck him, pressing herself all the way down and then pulling away in one swift movement. She quickened her pace as his rigid cock hit her spot again and again and bit down on her lip when his hand moved to her clit, rubbing it in small, rapid circles.

Neither of them heard the knocks on the door, or the muffled voice calling out Thirteen's name. They were both too caught up in Thirteen sliding herself along House's shaft, their accelerated heart rates and the feel of each other's skin. Just as Thirteen was crying out in ecstasy, the door swung open. Her cry turned into a scream and she fell off House onto the floor, thankfully out of sight of the intruder. It was James Wilson.

**AN:** Sorry to leave you guys on a cliffhanger! At least you know that there's going to be another chapter now :P


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Thank you again for all the favourites and kind reviews! Keep leaving feedback, because I am taking it all on board and trying to make this story as good as I can.

House recovered before Thirteen did, quickly turning away from Wilson and pulling his pants up. Wilson hesitated for a moment, not sure whether the most appropriate thing to do would be to leave and give them some privacy, or stay and pretend that what just happened wasn't a big deal. Thirteen remained shaking on the floor until House moved his hands to her shirt, trying to help her. At this, she sprang into action and shoved House away before buttoning the top herself. As soon as she was adequately covered, Thirteen stood up and ran her hands through her hair, knowing that she had to say something to Wilson but too scared and too furious to form any sort of coherent sentence in her mind. Finally, she fixed him with a cold stare and opened her mouth, hoping that something would come out.

"What the hell are you doing here?" _Good, that made sense and it would be nice to know the answer as well_.

"I was coming to check on you," Wilson replied, putting all his concentration into looking at her face, and not anywhere else.

"Well, I'm fine, so you can go now," she shot at him, stopping herself from turning to House. _If I pretend he's not here_, she thought, _maybe Wilson won't pay any attention to him either_.

"Remy – " Wilson began, only to be cut off by the young doctor.

"I said I was fine. Now, can you please leave?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Wilson asked her, keeping his distance from the other two, but not moving any closer to the door.

"What, sleeping with House, or not letting you watch?" Thirteen did her best to use words that were sharp enough to cut through Wilson. She felt like she was melting inside and he was going to pay for that.

"I – I had no idea that he – that you were – "

"That we were _fucking_." Remy's voice was filled with ire, which she hoped was concealing her embarrassment. "Let's not waste time with politeness, Wilson; I'm pretty sure that all respect has been sufficiently eradicated at this point."

"I promise, I didn't see anything – "

"Like hell you didn't." She was getting good at this interrupting thing. "He was still inside me when you stepped through the door!"

"On that note," House finally joined in, "I would like to point out that this was completely consensual."

"I know that!"

"He knows that!"

Thirteen and Wilson spoke simultaneously, both turning their intent gazes on House.

"Then I don't see what you have to object to," House directed at Wilson. "As long as the bisexual and I are happy with what we're doing, no one has the right to stop us."

"It's not going to be consensual for long if you keep talking like that." Thirteen's voice was low and rough and carried a heavy threat with it.

"This is what I'm talking about," Wilson interjected. "Is this really the best way for you to recover? You've suffered a serious trauma, not to mention your Huntington's – "

"That's none of your business," Thirteen spat. "Look, you don't know me, so how can you know what is and isn't good for me?"

"I'm a doctor," Wilson reminded her, trying to play his compassionate wisdom card that convinced his patients to take his advice. Well, most of the time.

"So am I!" Thirteen was no longer using her inside voice and both men were starting to get concerned that one or more neighbours might come bursting through the still open door at any moment. "And so is House," she added, "which makes me think that we're quite capable between the two of us of monitoring my health."

Wilson gave a heavy sigh. Continuing this argument was only going to stir up more anger and pain; it was best for him to leave them and let them make their own mistakes, regardless of the consequences. Maybe they would learn something. "Alright, as long as you know what you're getting into."

"I do," Thirteen said, her voiced determined and her chin raised despite her discomfort at how much Wilson had seen of her. The oncologist turned and headed for the door, but Thirteen called after him before he disappeared into the hallway. "Wilson." He turned back to face her. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread this around the hospital, regardless of how much House wants to brag about it." She threw an impish glance at her lover, causing him to roll his eyes and making Wilson's cheeks turn slightly red.

"No problem," he reassured her, before turning left into the corridor and moving out of earshot.

"Boy, are we going to have fun tomorrow," House leered, making Thirteen's stomach drop. She knew that she'd never receive the same promise from House that she'd just gotten from Wilson.

**AN: **This update is a bit shorter than the previous ones, but I decided that the ensuing drama at PPTH deserves its own chapter :P I think my next update might be the last one, but I'll see how I go…


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